The War that Begun All
by IAmRye
Summary: The experiences of all the nations that had gone through World War I.


**Author's Note: Well, it seems I haven't made anything in quite awhile. So here it is, the first chapter of a new fanfiction I am deciding to write. I have an upcoming history test. You can see why this fanfiction is important to my study process- just to let all your readers out there know... This is based solely on my history notes. Enjoy. **

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World War I. The rain pours down, tapping at the helmets of unfortunate soldiers. People that were sucked in by the happy atmosphere that was so falsely given to such a war. For those that were completely inexperienced on the subject, it was a time for a vacation. To gain new strengths and hold the pride of your home country by your heart, to cradle it dearly and suck up all the warmth from it. Depriving it of everything greedily, while still trying to convince themselves that what they are doing is grand. That it is great. That it will all work out and everyone will leave the country, venture into new territory and then soon return to their families safely. How innocent these poor soldiers were, holding such beliefs in their mind without another doubt. And worse on those who brainwashed such men.

World War I. It was meant to be the war to end all wars, but was only a war that begun more.

"It's going to rain yet again today" Matthew thought aloud, a few of his fellow soldiers glancing over. Embarrassed, he slinked away from the crew. Drifting off to the side of the trench where he wouldn't bother others by his thoughts. It was quite obvious that it was going to rain that day. The clouds were rolling in quickly, dark and ominous. . Scary even. Matthew hated seeing the clothes like that. The great sense of impending doom was immense when the clouds appeared as such, lingering above their heads . . Snickering and waiting for the moment when they would unleash their loads. All of the rain would quickly fill the trenches, almost to the brim. All attempts to drain the rainwater would be absolutely futile. The soldier s boots would be absolutely soaked, and they would be unable to dry them off for weeks. Mud would splash into their faces, onto their nice, proudly-worn uniforms, and diryting them completely. Matthew hated the rain. He hated it more than anything in the world. Even more than the enemy. To Matthew the rain was the enemy. There was no doubt about that. Swallowing hard, he adjusted his rifle upon his shoulder. The weight of it seemed to increase as the days dragged on by.

Flicking his matted bangs back with one quick flick of his wrist, Matthew didn't notice the soldier that made his way towards him, a playful grin on his face. "'Ello there, Matthew" The young Brit greeted the Canadian with a wink, leaning against the wall of dirt that surrounded them. That's all there ever seemed to be in there trenches. Dirt, dirt and more dirt. Stacks and heaps, never-ending.

"Oh, Arthur. ." Matthew said slowly, the recognition seeping in as to who was speaking to him at that moment. It was his friend, Arthur a young British soldier that was fighting alongside him. During World War I, when the British became involved in the war once the Germans had attempted in invading Belgium, Britain had also dragged along Canada. It was a colony of Britain, and it could be considered that they were close to one another at the time. With absolutely no refusal, Canadians joined the war to fight in the British army. Matthew, being a Canadian, was nervous at first to learn he would be maneuvering beneath British people. He thought he would work more alongside his own people, instead of the British Empire. But he soon got used to it, and in fact made a friend. Arthur Kirkland. "How are you holding up?" He asked pleasantly, seeing the deep bags beneath his friend's eyes. Arthur only shook his head and smiled, running a gloved hand through his dirty hair. Pressing the locks down and then stuffing them beneath his army helmet once more. These helmets were extremely valuable to a soldier at the time. It was essential to be protected against the fires of the enemy. Shrapnel s were extremely dangerous, and tin helmets were required to help protect the skull of soldiers.

"I'm holding up kinda well I guess, though I could use som'more food eh?" Arthur retorted, with a little snicker and nudge to the side of Matthew. He only smiled sadly, looking down at the ground. He could feel the tingle of his skin beneath his socks, hidden within his boots caked in dirt and mud. "What's wrong chap. .?" He asked after a moment, concerned for the well-being of Matthew. Despite the conditions of the war, it was common for Matthew to approach all with a smile on his face. Arthur could even swear that he saw a twinkle of kindness or even happiness in the male's eyes, when he was preparing to venture out into no-man's land - a land that no soldier ever dared to go unless ordered to. It was a for sure death for many to go into such a land. The empty place between trenches of enemies. Soldiers were make extremely easy targets just by taking a single step there. There was always someone waiting. . At the ready. . Pointing a gun prepared to shoot. Locked and ready.

"Oh, nothing's wrong Arthur. I just don't like the rain, as ya know" Matthew admitted sheepishly, hiding behind the curtain of his hair. He hated to say his weaknesses aloud, but sometimes it couldn't be avoided. Especially to Arthur. He was one of the only people who would never judge him, and made it clear to Matthew quite a few times during the war. But nonetheless, there was always that one suspicion that lingered. . Arthur scowled for a moment at Matthew, but then burst out into a weak laughter.

"You had me going there for a moment," Arthur began, wiping a fake tear from his eye. Causing a dark expression to creep onto Matthew's face. "I know you don't like the rain Matthew, we all don't" he commented, lifting his hand to pat the male's helmet. It was an awkward gesture but was not lost on Matthew.

"Sometimes, I just wish I could go home. . Ya know?" He said, peering into the sparkling emerald eyes of Arthur. He nodded, making a few noises of comfort. He didn't enjoy seeing Matthew like this. Whining and weak, his determination only sitting there. Not burning with any kind of passion, drained of all energy. For Matthew's sake, Arthur wished he could just take him home. Possibly injure him for his own good so he could be sent to a hospital, to be taken somewhere else far away from the war. These were some of the things that would be done for his dear friend. "Don't you wish that too?" He asked finally, his voice rising only slightly on the new downpour of shells; they exploded across the battlefield. The cries of soldiers farther away tearing at the two hearts of the male's that sat near each other, in the trenches.

"Yes, of course I wish that! All the time. . ." Arthur muttered, crossing his arms against his chest. His rifle shifting on its belt, digging into his back slightly. Flinching, he got used to the pain and focused onto Matthew. "Every day I think about how good it'd be to just get back 'ome. . To see all my old friends, and to just live again. Instead of spending what feels like the rest of my life stuck in this bloody trenches!" Kicking angrily at the mud beneath his feet, he splashed the tiny puddle. Yelping, Matthew jumped to his feet to avoid the splatters and Arthur quickly apologized. "So sorry. . Didn't mean to. . It's just. . Thinking about being stuck here, it just gets to me sometimes" He said softly, trying to clean off some of the new stains that he had created on his uniform. Corner of his mouth twitching, Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

"It's no problem. I understand Arthur," accepting the attitude of his friend the two of them walked through the trenches, arms touching against one another as they squeezed past other soldiers. The cries of pain, and pleas for help with absolutely nightmarish. But a soldier seems to adapt to them quickly, and to even ignore such pleas. Especially those that travel from no-man's land. Those who get shot there, often die there. It's near impossible to save those that are not within the keeps of the trenches. These two males understood this quite well. They resented the fact that the trenches were their greatest saviors but also . . . their definite doom. With the two friends wandering through the trenches and trying to prepare themselves for the oncoming way, they would have never guessed the new event that was going to spring on them. The newest obstacle that they would be forced to leap over, or be left behind. The General of their section of trench slowly trotted his way over to the two males that were hunkering down.

"You, both of you" he barked at them. "You're on duty" With shocked expressions, they looked into the dirty, scowling face of their general in a dumbfounded manner. 'Duty? Does he mean..' Matthew began to speak, before his deep voice boomed out once more "Out there, in the land. You'll be making the next attack on the enemy. Get prepared. You leave when the sun sets" and with that he went off on his way, commanding others and forcing them to run off into their own deaths. Looking into the sky, Matthew saw that it wouldn't be long before the sunset and rain began to pour.

"I guess. . This is something we just have to deal with," Arthur said finally, wanting to break the awkward silence that had formed around the two. Matthew nodded in agreement. It was eminent that the two would rather stay in the rain in the trenches, and then run around out there as large targets to be shot. But this was unavoidable. The decision was already made and there was nothing in the world they could do to stop it. Swallowing hard, they fixed their rifles and slowly went to the other soldiers that were also appointed for the attack. At sunset.

That is when it would most likely end.


End file.
